


So We Beat On

by ChevyDestiel67 (CountessCastiel)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: (a lot of it... I hate myself), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Enjolras isn't really likeable in this story, F/M, Inspired by The Great Gatsby, M/M, Minor Character Death, Sorry @ Victor Hugo and Francis Scott Fitzgerald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 22:12:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15895143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountessCastiel/pseuds/ChevyDestiel67
Summary: Combeferre comes to New York and visit his old friends - Enjolras and Charlotte, an unhappy married couple. During summer, he will meet Grantaire, his rich and odd neighbour, who has more than one secret to confess.Inspired by The Great Gatsby.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> \- Before you start reading this story, please take a look at tags and the warnings.  
> \- I apologize in advance for any mistakes but English isn't my first language.  
> \- If you don't want the book or the movie ruined by this shit I wrote, read/watch it and then come back, because there are MAJOR SPOILERS. It's basically the book with different characters (I hope Fitzgerald's heir won't press charges against me lmao) and it's set in the present, not the 20s.  
> \- To my E/R trash squad: I love you

 

 

Love is blindness, I don't wanna see.  
Won't you wrap the night around me?  
Oh my heart, love is blindness.

 – Love is Blindness (U2)

 

When I left Europe and came to New York, I met Grantaire--who represented everything I despised--but, if personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him. He was a cynic, but he believed in love and freedom, and he had an extraordinary gift for hope, something I have never found in any other person and I will never find again.

My family have been prominent. My father, Auguste Combeferre, agreed to finance me and that's why I came to US. Permanently, I thought. I rented a house on that island which extends itself due east of New York and where there are two unusual formations of land. Twenty miles from the city.

I lived at West Egg. My house was very close to a huge place with a swimming pool, a big garden and, for sure, a lot of rooms. It was Grantaire's mansion. Or rather, as I didn't know him, it was a house belonging to a man of that name.

Across the bay there was the East Egg, where Charlotte and Enjolras lived. Enjolras was a distant relative and I met Charlotte some years before.

I didn't know why they came to New York. They had spent a year in France and then came back here, bored and rich together. This was a permanent move, said Enjolras over the telephone, but I didn't believe it.

**

And so it happened that on a warm evening I drove to the East Egg to see them. Their house was big and more elegant than I expected. Charlotte had changed a lot. She was, without doubt, the one who had everything in control, the dictator. Two shining, arrogant eyes had established dominance over her face.

We talked for a few minutes on the veranda.

"I've got a nice place here," she said, as if she lived alone there.

We walked through a big hallway and I saw Enjolras with a young woman. I must have stood for a few moments listening to them.

The woman introduced herself as Eponine.

Enjolras smiled and then laughed, an absurd, charming little laugh, and I smiled too and hugged him.

He began to ask me questions in his low, thrilling voice. His face was sad and lovely with blue eyes and a bright passionate mouth. His hair was still blonde and long.

We talked for a while about the old days, when Charlotte rested her hand on my shoulder.

"What are you doing, Combeferre?"

"I work in a book shop."

"Which one?"

I told her.

"Never heard of it," she remarked decisively, and that annoyed me.

"You can come one of these days," I answered shortly. "If you're not planning on leaving again."

"Oh, I'll stay here, don't you worry," she said, glancing at Enjolras and then back at me.

"I'm bored," Eponine complained, "I've been lying on that sofa for as long as I can remember."

"Don't look at me," Enjolras retorted. "I've been trying to get you to New York all afternoon."

"No, thanks," said Eponine. "Combeferre, you live in West Egg," she continued. "I know somebody there."

"Uh, I honestly don't know a single--"

"You must know Grantaire."

"Grantaire?" demanded Enjolras. "What Grantaire?"

Before I could reply that he was my neighbor, their butler--I didn't even know they had one--announced dinner.

Enjolras was still looking at me.

"We ought to plan something to fight this heat," yawned Eponine, sitting down at the table.

"All right," said Enjolras. "What'll we plan?" He turned to me helplessly.

We were talking when a phone rang. Charlotte's. She frowned, pushed back her chair and without a word left the dining room. Enjolras leaned forward again, his voice glowing and singing.

"I am really happy to have you at my table, Combeferre." Then suddenly he threw his napkin on the table and excused himself, and left the room too.

Eponine and I looked at each other. I was about to speak when she shushed me. She leaned forward, unashamed, trying to hear what was happening outside.

"This Grantaire you spoke of--" I said.

"Shh. Don't talk. I want to hear what is happening."

"What?" I asked innocently.

"You mean to say you don't know?" said Eponine, honestly surprised. "I thought everybody knew."

"I don't."

"Oh..." she said hesitantly, "Charlotte's got some man in New York."

"Got some man? A lover?" I asked.

Eponine nodded.

"He might have the decency not to call her at dinner time. Don't you think?"

Before I even realized that Charlotte had someone else, she and Enjolras were back at the table.

"It was important! Sure!" cried Enjolras.

The telephone rang again, and Charlotte left the room for a second time.

Enjolras took his face in his hands. He had changed a lot too for sure, but not outside.

"We don't know each other very well, Combeferre," he said suddenly.

"We haven't been in contact for a while, true."

"True." He repeated. "Well, I've had a very bad time, and I'm pretty cynical about everything, recently. Me! Can you believe it? I have to go to bed. Good night, Combeferre. Eponine."

I was confused, said goodbye to Eponine and drove back home.

**

I saw the silhouette of a man close to my neighbor's mansion, standing with his hands in his pockets and looking in front of him. I wasn't able to tell if he was looking at the stars or at the house in front of his--Charlotte and Enjolras' house. Something suggested to me that it was Grantaire himself.

I decided to say hello to him and introduce myself. But I had a feeling he was content to be there alone. Even if I wasn't close to him, and couldn't even look at his face, I could have sworn he was trembling. I glanced at the same direction, and saw nothing except the house and a single red light, that might have been the end of a dock. When I looked once more for Grantaire he had vanished.

 


	2. Chapter 2

I went up to New York with Charlotte one afternoon.

"Stop here," she insisted. "I want you to meet someone."

I followed her on a street full of shops until we reached a garage. The sign said ELLEN H. WILSON – GARAGE – GAS STATION – CARS BOUGHT AND SOLD. I followed Charlotte inside a small office.

"Hello, Ellen," said Charlotte. "How's business?"

"I can't complain," answered Ellen unconvincingly.

Then I heard footsteps and in a moment a man appeared. He was in the middle thirties. He wasn't beautiful but there was an immediately visible vitality about him. He smiled slowly and shook hands with me.

"I'm Babet Wilson, Ellen's husband. We own this place," he said, not really paying attention at me.

Then he shook hands with Charlotte, looking her flush in the eye. Then he wet his lips and without turning around he spoke to Ellen in a soft voice:

"There's someone for you outside."

"Oh, okay," replied her leaving the office.

Babet moved close to Charlotte.

"I want to see you," said Charlotte intently. "You know where. Wait half an hour before leaving."

"All right." He nodded and moved away from her just as Ellen came back.

**

Charlotte and I waited for Babet outside a white building about two miles from Ellen's garage. It was a few days before the Fourth of July.

"That garage is a terrible place," said Charlotte. "He should leave it more often."

"Does she know?"

"Ellen? She thinks he goes looking for new clients in New York."

When Babet arrived, Charlotte explained to me that she owned a flat in that building, on the top floor. There was a small living room, a kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom.

I took a glass of whiskey and then I said goobye, trying to leave them alone.

"Not yet," Charlotte insisted. "Try to have some fun, Combeferre."

I nodded and drank some more. Sitting on Babet's lap, Charlotte told him how much she wanted a cigarette. After I while I went out to buy some, and when I came back they had disappeared so I sat down discreetly in the living room.

Around midnight, they started shouting, leaving the bedroom.

"Enjolras! I'll say his name whenever I want to!" yelled Babet. "Enjolras! Just leave him! Enjolras! Enj--"

Charlotte almost broke his nose.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

There was music from my neighbor's house through the summer nights. People came and went like moths among the whisperings and the wine and the stars.

I believe that on the first night I went to Grantaire's house I was one of the few guests who had actually been invited. People were not invited--they just went there. They got into their cars and they ended up at Grantaire's door. Sometimes they came and went without having met Grantaire at all.

I had been actually invited. I found a letter in my mail: he asked me to attend his "little party" that night. He had seen me several times and had intended to call me. There was his sign at the bottom of the letter, "Grantaire", followed by a "R", and I understood the pun.

I wore my best pair of black jeans and a blue shirt, and I went to his house a little after seven, and wandered around surrounded by people I didn't know.

As soon as I arrived I made an attempt to find Grantaire. I asked about him to two or three people, but it seemed they barely knew the man I was asking about.

I was on my way to get a drink when I saw Eponine.

"Hello!" I smiled, walking toward her.

"I thought you might be here," she said. "I remembered you lived next door."

"This is actually my first time here."

"Let's go to the garden. This music is too loud for me. Maybe we'll find Grantaire."

The moon had risen higher, and I was still with Eponine. We were sitting at a table when a man of about my age joined us. "Having fun?"

"This is an unusual party for me. I haven't even seen Grantaire yet. I live over there--" I waved my hand in the direction of my house, "and this man has sent me a letter!"

For a moment he looked at me and then started laughing, as did Eponine.

"I am Grantaire," he said, still laughing.

"What!" I exclaimed. "Oh, Sorry, I--"

"I thought you knew. I'm afraid I'm not a very good host."

He smiled understandingly--much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. His blue eyes understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself. He put his hand in his messy black and curly hair, nervous.

"Excuse me. I will rejoin you in a moment."

When he was gone I turned immediately to Eponine.

"I was expecting a person in his middle years. Oh my god. Who is he?" I demanded.

"He's just a man named Grantaire."

"Where is he from, I mean? And what does he do?"

"I just know he went to Oxford, but I don't believe it."

"Why not?"

"I don't know," she insisted, "I just don't think he went there. Anyhow, he gives large parties," said Eponine, changing the subject. "And I like large parties. So much privacy."

My eyes fell on Grantaire, standing alone on the steps and looking from one group to another with approving eyes.

"I beg your pardon."

Grantaire's butler--of course he had one--was suddenly standing beside us.

"Miss Eponine?" he asked. "I beg your pardon but Mr. Grantaire would like to speak to you alone."

"With me?" she exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes."

She got up slowly, raising her eyebrows at me, and followed the butler toward the house. I was alone and it was almost two. Desperate to find someone to talk to, I went inside.

The large room was full of people. Two boys were kissing in the shadows. Another couple was dancing, even if the music stopped half an hour before. A young girl was crying and I couldn't stop looking at her.

"She had a fight with her girlfriend," explained someone at my elbow.

"Whenever she sees I'm having a good time she wants to go home," the girl said.

"Never heard anything so selfish in my life, honey," another one replied.

As I stood there, Eponine and Grantaire came out together from a room. He was talking to her but stopped when some people approached him to say goodbye.

"I've just heard the most amazing thing," she whispered to me, smiling.

We joined the last of Grantaire's guests arounds him. I apologized for not having known him in the garden.

"Don't mention it," he smiled. "I'm happy you came."

Then the butler, behind his shoulder:

"Mr. Thenar wants you on the phone."

"All right, in a minute. Tell him I'll be right there... good night, Combeferre. Good night, Eponine."

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Once I wrote down on a paper the names of the people I met at Grantaire's parties that summer. I can still read them--Jean Prouvaire, Cosette, Bahorel, Feuilly, Courfeyrac, Musichetta, and so on.

One Sunday morning in late July, Grantaire's gorgeous car arrived in front of my house. I usually met him at his parties, we had breakfast a couple of times on his private beach, but he never came to my house.

"Good morning, 'Ferre. You're having lunch with me today in the city and I thought we could go together."

He was balancing himself on the dashboard of his car. He was never quite still; there was always a tapping foot somewhere or the impatient opening and closing of a hand.

He saw me looking with admiration at his car.

"It's pretty, right? Haven't you ever seen it before?"

I'd seen it. Everybody had seen it. It was green, and impossible to not notice.

We were on the road when he asked me what was my opinion on him.

A little overwhelmed, I began to say small and nice things.

"Mh. I think I know a lot about you thanks to our previous meetings, but you know nothing about me. So, I'm going to tell you something about my life," he said seriously. "I don't want you to get a wrong idea of me from all these stories you surely hear at parties."

So he was aware of the bizarre accusations. Someone even said he killed a man.

"Here it goes. I am the only son of some rich people. I grew up in France but educated at Oxford because all my ancestors have been educated there. It's... a tradition, you see."

He looked at me sideways--and I knew why Eponine had believed he was lying. He swallowed, as if the words were stuck in his throat. I wondered if there wasn't something a little sinister about him after all.

"My parents died and suddenly I had a fortune. Of course the first thing I did was travelling--Rome, Venice, Berlin, Madrid, Paris--I draw and took a lot of pictures, for myself only, but then... I had to go to Iraq. And I won't say anything else about this matter, except--"

He pointed at the glove compartment and I opened it, founding and a piece of metal. The thing had an authentic look.

"There should be a picture of my Oxford days too."

I found it. It was a photograph of half a dozen young men. There was Grantaire, looking a little, not much, younger.

Then it was all true.

"I'm going to make a big request of you today," he said, while I was putting away his souvenirs, "that's why I thought you needed to know something about me. I want our friendship to be honest. I want to trust you, and I want you to trust me. Now, that said... there's a sad thing that happened to me." He hesitated. "You'll hear about it."

"At lunch?"

"No, later. From Eponine. I know you'll meet her for dinner."

"Are you... are you in love with Eponine?" I had to ask. He laughed.

"No, Combeferre, I'm not. But I asked her to speak to you about this matter, and she agreed."

I hadn't the faintest idea what "this matter" was, and I was a little annoyed. I hadn't asked Eponine out to discuss Grantaire, but I was curious.

**

Finally, we stopped for lunch in a diner and I saw Grantaire greeting another guy.

"Combeferre, this is my friend Montparnasse."

The young and tall man, beautiful yet scary, shook my hand but said nothing. We sat down on a table and ordered food and red wine.

"I understand you're looking for a business connection," said Montparnasse to me.

Grantaire answered for me.

"Oh, no," he exclaimed, "this isn't the man!"

"No?" Montparnasse seemed disappointed.

"This is just a friend. I told you we'd talk about that some other time."

"I beg your pardon," said Montparnasse very kindly.

Our food arrived and we ate in silence. I tried to focus on my dish, but I was curious to know about the new guy and more about Grantaire's secret.

"Look," said Grantaire, leaning toward me, "I'm afraid I made you a little angry."

"I just don't like mysteries," I answered. "And I don't understand--you don't seem a guy who's afraid to talk. Why do we have to go through Eponine?"

"There is nothing to worry about," he assured me.

Suddenly he looked at his watch, jumped up, took his phone and left me and Montparnasse at the table.

"Fine guy, isn't he?" asked Montparnasse, following him with his eyes. "Handsome to look at and a perfect gentleman."

"Yes, he is. Have you known him for a long time?" I inquired.

"Several years," he answered. "I have to admit, I had a crush on him. He's the kind of man you'd like to take home and introduce to your mother and sister. But unfortunately..." he stopped.

When Grantaire returned to the table, Montparnasse drank his coffee and got to his feet.

"I have enjoyed my time with you," he said with a bow, "I hope to see you again, Combeferre," and turned away.

"Who is he? An actor?" I asked.

"Who? Montparnasse? No," he laughed. "He's a gambler." Grantaire hesitated, then added calmly: "He's the man who fixed the World's Series some years ago."

"Fixed the World's Series?" I repeated, as I remembered those events. "How did he happen to do that?"

"He just saw the opportunity," Grantaire shrugged.

"Why isn't he in jail?"

"They can't get him. He's a smart man."

I insisted on paying the check. As the waiter brought my change I caught sight of Charlotte across the crowded room.

"Come with me," I said. "I want to say hello to someone."

When he saw us, Charlotte came toward us.

"Where have you been?" she demanded eagerly. "Enjolras is furious because you haven't called in a while."

"I'm sorry, I've been buys. Work, and... stuff. This is Grantaire, Charlotte."

They shook hands briefly and a look of embarrassment came over Grantaire's face.

"How are you?" Charlotte asked to me. "How did you happen to come all the way here?"

"Grantaire invited me," I reply, but when I turned toward him, he was no longer there.

**

"When I met Enjolras," said Eponine at dinner, "he was by far the most popular of all the boys of the area. He was always wearing something red. Girls and boys would have killed for his attention. One day at a cafè where I was working he asked me if I was going to a charity event held in the city. I was flattered, but I wasnt't, because I had to work. There was a boy sitting close, I remember now that his name was Grantaire, and I saw him looking at Enjolras while he was speaking. It was a look that said a lot of things, if you know what I mean. Enjolras turned and smiled at him, and I remember they left the cafè together. I haven't seen Grantaire in years, even after I met him at the party I didn't realize it was the same man. Anyway, soon after I left that job and I didn't see Enjolras very often." She paused.

"There were rumors about his sexuality, but after a couple of years he got engaged to a woman--Charlotte, and eventually they got married.

I visited Enjolras the day before the wedding, and found him lying on the floor--drunk. He had a bottle of wine in one hand and a letter in the other. 'Congratulate me, 'Ponine! Never had a drink before but oh man, how I do enjoy it.' he said to me. I was worried. 'Here, my friend', he went on, giving me the box with the rings. 'Give them back to the shop. Tell the people that Enjolras has changed his mind! I won't get married!' He began to cry--he cried and cried. I tried to calm him down, make him rest on his bed, but he wanted to stay on the floor, crying. He wouldn't let go of the letter.

Next day he married Charlotte.

I met them when they came back from the honeymoon and I swear, I have never seen a girl so mad and bossy.

Then... well, there was that dinner where you and I met," Eponine went on. "He heard the name Grantaire for the first time in years. That night he called me and asked again 'What Grantaire?' And when I described him he said in the strangest voice that it must be the man he used to know. In that moment I connected this Grantaire, your neighbor, to the guy at the cafè."

"What strange coincidence," I said.

"It isn't coincidence at all."

"Why not?"

"Grantaire bought that house so that Enjolras would be just across the bay."

Then, I finally understood.

Eponine continued. "He wants to know... he wants to know if you'll invite Enjolras to your house some afternoon and then let him come over."

The modesty of the demand shook me. Grantaire had waited almost five years and bought a mansion to be across the bay, look at Enjolras' house so that he could just "come over" to my house?

"Did I have to know all this before he could ask such a little thing?" I asked.

"He's afraid. He has waited so long, and he thought you might be offended. You see him all bold, confident and wild, but he's just a regular guy who's afraid of a lot of things."

Something worried me.

"He could have asked you to arrange the meeting... why me?"

"He wants him to see his house," she explained. "And your house is right next door."

"Oh! Oh. Okay. I get it."

"I think he half expected Enjolras to go to one of his parties," Eponine said, "but he never did. Then he began asking people casually if they knew him, and I was the first one he found. It was that night he sent his butler for me, remember? I suggested a lunch in the city, or whatever, but he... he wants to show him his house so bad. When I said you were friend with Charlotte, he started to abandon the whole idea. But... here we are."

It was dark now, as we left the restaurant.

I had a question in my mind and I had to ask before going crazy. "Does Enjolras want to see Grantaire?"

"Enjolras doesn't know. And Grantaire doesn't want him to know. You're just supposed to invite them for tea, or whatever you prefer."

"Ok then," I said, and nodded.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

When I came home that night I could see that all the lights of Grantaire's house were on.

At first I thought it was another party, but there wasn't a sound. As I was almost entering my house, I saw Grantaire walking toward me.

"Did you forget to turn the lights off?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Let's go to Coney Island. In my car."

"It's too late, Grantaire."

"Well. Wanna come home? We can use the swimming pool."

"Honestly... I'm very tired."

"All right."

He waited, looking at me, then I understood.

"I talked with Eponine," I said after a moment. "I'll call Enjolras tomorrow and invite home to drink and eat something."

"Oh, that's all right," he said almost as he didn't care. "I don't want to put you to any trouble."

"No trouble at all. What day would be okay?"

"You choose. It's your house after all."

"How about the day after tomorrow?" I asked. He considered for a moment, then he nodded.

"There's another little thing," he said uncertainly, and hesitated.

"Do you want to wait some more days?"

"Oh, no, it isn't about that. I--forgive me, but... I thought, you don't make much money at the library, do you?"

"Yeah, not very much."

He continued more confidently.

"I thought you didn't. So. I have a thing that could interest you. Call it a second job, if you want--"

I interrupted him. "Thank you, but I don't have time and I don't think I'm the one you're looking for."

"You wouldn't have to do any business with Montparnasse." Evidently he thought that I was saying no because of his friend, or whoever Montparnasse was to him. He waited a moment longer, than apologized and we said goodnight.

**

I called Enjolras from the library next morning and invited him home the day after around four.

"Don't bring Charlotte," I warned him.

"What?"

"Don't bring Charlotte."

"Charlotte who?" he asked and laughed quietly.

**

The day finally arrived. Grantaire came to my home around three, wearing a green shirt and black skinny jeans. He was pale and I could say that he hadn't sleep that night.

We chatted a little and I saw that Grantaire was very nervous, biting his nails and tapping one feet on the floor. Then he got up and told me that he was going home.

"What? Why?" I asked.

"It was a mistake. I shouldn't have. And It's late! He won't come!" He looked at his phone. "Late!"

"Don't be nervous, Grantaire. It's just five past four." I honestly didn't know what to say to calm him down.

He sat down, miserably, and at the same moment we heard a sound outside. We both jumped up and I went out, smiling at my friend.

The taxi stopped, and inside I could see Enjolras paying the driver. Then he came out, beautiful as ever, wearing a red t-shirt over black jeans. He looked at me and waved his hand.

"Are you in love with me, Combeferre? Why did I have to come alone?" he joked.

"That's a secret."

We went in, and to my surprise the room was empty.

"Oh no," I exclaimed.

"What?" the blonde asked.

"I'm here," Grantaire voce, entering the room. He was pale as death, hands in his jeans pockets, looking at us and then at the floor as if he was searching for something.

I turned to Enjolras who was standing close to the door, his mouth half open as he was looking at Grantaire.

For half a minute there wasn't a sound and I started to get nervous, and left the room. Then from the living room I heard a sob followed by Enjolras' trembling voice.

"I am glad to see you again, Grantaire."

"Me too, Enjolras."

A pause followed, and it seemed to never end. I didn't know what to do so I went back into the living room, hoping to not disturb them.

Both of the were sitting on the couch, sitting on the opposite sides, but looking at each other.

"We have met before," muttered Grantaire. His eyes glanced at me and smiled happily.

"We haven't seen each other for many years," said Enjolras.

"Five years next November."

Grantaire's answer made Enjolras looking at him with soft eyes and blushed a little, and I could tell that Enjolras knew the exact time too.

I felt again like a ghost and I made an excuse to leave.

"I have to say something to you," Grantaire said, following me nervously into the kitchen. He closed the door, put his hands in his hair and whispered, in a miserable way:

"Oh God. This is a terrible mistake. A terrible mistake. Oh God."

"You're just embarrassed, that's all... and Enjolras is embarrassed too."

"You think?" he repeated, surprised.

"He blushed like a child."

"Shh! Don't talk so loud."

"You're acting like a little boy, Grantaire. Come on. Go to him, I think the both of you have waited enough."

He looked at me, muttered "sorry" and opened the door to go back into the other room. I went out and walked a while around the house. After half an hour I went back home, making every possible noise in the kitchen, just in case. When I entered the living room, I thought they haven't heard a sound. They were sitting closer now, knees touching, hand in hand, embarrassment gone. Both of them have been crying for sure, as their eyes were a little red and swollen.

Eventually, Enjolras noticed me and blushed. Grantaire was glowing, not pale anymore and visibly happy.

"Oh, hello," he said, as if he hadn't seen me for years, then looked back at Enjolras. "Isn't Combeferre just the best friend ever?"

"He is, 'Taire," the blonde answered, full of joy, and happy to use a nickname he hasn't said in years.

"I want you both to come over to my house," he said, "I'd like to show you around, Enjolras."

"Are you sure you want me to come?" I asked.

"Absolutely, Combeferre."

Enjolras excused himself and went upstairs to wash his face, while Grantaire and I waited on the lawn.

"My house looks well, right?" he asked, nervous again. I told him his house was just gorgeous.

"Mh. It took me three years to earn the money to bought it."

"I thought you inherited your money."

"I did," he said automatically, "but I also enjoyed life, travelled, and business wasn't always good."

I asked what exactly did he mean with "business" and he just said that it was a private affair.

"What I'm saying," he corrected himself, "is that I've been in several things. Art business. Music industry. I have left them all. Are you thinking about what I proposed the other night?"

Before I could answer, Enjolras came out of the house and we started walking to Grantaire's mansion.

"That is your house?" the blonde asked.

"Do you like it?"

"It's splendid. Do you live here all alone?"

"I keep it always full of interesting people, night and day. And I have a lot of books."

We entered and we went upstairs to Grantaire's room, which was bigger then the white flat of Charlotte in New York. There was a huge bed, a big desk with some books on it, a sofa and a table. We sat down and looked at the paintings on the wall. Grantaire explained he made them.

"I remember you were really good," Enjolras whispered, glancing at him.

Grantaire never stopped looking at Enjolras, embarassed.

Eventually, he showed him a little more of his house, especially the big library and his music room, where Grantaire kept a piano, a couple of guitars and even an harp. Then we went outside to see the garden and the swimming pool. It had rained that morning and the weather wasn't good in the afternoon either.

"If it wasn't for the mist we could see your home across the bay," said Grantaire. "You always have a red light that burns all night at the end of your dock."

Enjolras hugged him from behind and put his head on his shoulder, absorbed in what he had just said. I glanced at Grantaire before giving them some privacy, looking at the sea. The distance between Grantaire and the red light had now vanished forever, for now the light was hugging him, and Grantaire had realized that.

"Let's go back inside," said Grantaire, "I'll play something."

In the music room Grantaire turned on a solitary lamp beside the piano. He sat on the bench.

"I'm all out of practice, but--"

"Don't talk so much, Grantaire," laughed Enjolras. "You'll be amazing."

_Love is blindness_  
_I don't wanna see_  
_Won't you wrap the night  
_ _Around me?_

_Love is drowning_  
_In a deep well_  
_All the secrets  
_ _And no one to tell--_

He reached the end of the song and adjusted himself a little, for he had shared a couple of tears while singing. He got up and walked toward Enjolras. "Can I?" he asked.

Enjolras took his hand and smiled. He said something low in his ear, blushing a little. Grantaire turned his head and with his free hand he cupped Enjolras' face, with a rush of emotion.

They had forgotten me, and when I looked once more at them I saw their lips brushing. They were possessed by desire, I could tell, a passion that probably had never left them--not even after five years. I left the room, leaving them alone, giving them the time they had lost.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Around that time, a reporter from New York arrived one morning at Grantaire's door and asked him if he had anything to say.

"Anything to say about what?" asked Grantaire politely.

"Any statement--"

It took a while but then my friend understood that his name was heard around that reporter's office, in connection to something that I didn't fully understand. Grantaire's notoriety, spread about by the hundreds who had accepted his hospitality and said a lot of things about his past, had increased all summer until he fell just short of being news. There was this story in particular, that he didn't live in that house at all but in a boat, and only later I found out that the truth wasn't very far, because Grantaire had lived in a boat when he was young and still Louis Grand.

Louis Grand--that was really, or at least legally, Grantaire's name. He had changed it at the age of seventeen when he saw Lamarque's yacht drop anchor at the port--which one I didn't and still don't know. They met at the beach and my friend introduced himself as Grantaire.

I suppose he'd had the name ready for a long time. His parents weren't rich at all, they were poor and his father was still alive, and he never really accepted them, same for is life. So he invented "Grantaire", the best part of himself, someone with a huge imagination and ready to start a new life.

He had spent his days working. He knew women and men, with the hope to find someone able to tame his wild heart.

When Lamarque's yacht arrived in town, Louis Grand saw an opportunity. That boat represented all the beauty and glamor in the world. Louis died that day, and Grantaire came to life. I suppose he used his charm--he knew that his smile was loved by old women and men because it was honest and reassuring.

Grantaire worked for him. As a sailor, as a chef, as an advisor. He had time to study, read and meet people everywhere.

Then, Lamarque died.

And it was from him that Grantaire inherited money.

**

For several days I didn't see Grantaire or received his texts. I was in New York working at the book shop, or going around with Eponine. One evening we met outside his house, when suddenly we saw Charlotte coming toward.

Grantaire stood still and tried to be polite.

"I believe we have already met."

"Oh, yes," said Charlotte, obviously not remembering.

"At the restaurant. A couple of weeks ago?"

"Oh, that's right. You were with him," she replied, pointing at me.

Grantaire nodded. "I happen to know your husband."

"Oh really?" Charlotte asked and then turned to me. Then we will all come over to your next party, Grantaire," she suggested. "What do you say?"

"I'd be delighted to have you."

**

Charlotte was evidently worried, watching Enjolras going around by himself admiring the art on Grantaire's walls, on the following party. I wasn't okay either: I knew trouble was coming.

Suddenly, I heard Enjolras' voice on my back.

"If you want to talk to me alone any time during the evening, Combeferre, just let me know." I turned and he winked at me.

"I could join you two," suggested Grantaire, behind him. Enjolras smiled.

"Shall we go somewhere? Do you want to say hi to someone here?" I asked, glancing at Charlotte, who was talking to a couple of girls.

"I think I don't know a soul here," the blonde answered.

"I'm hosting the party and I only know like six people," Grantaire said and we all laughed.

Later, Enjolras and Grantaire danced. I remember being surprised that no one in the house cared about two guys dancing, and even more surprised when I saw other same sex couples dancing too.

Then, me and my friends walked out. They sat on a bench in a hidden spot in the garden, and I remained close. "Just in case, you know--" Enjolras tried to explain, blushing.

Eventually, we went inside again to drink something, and Charlotte appeared.

"I was looking for you, guys. Do you mind if I eat with some people over there?" she said, pointing at some people, one woman and two men, waving at us. "We have some friends in common and they have a lot of secrets to share!"

"Go ahead," answered Enjolras, "and remember to put their numbers on your phone..." and I knew that except for the time he'd been alone with Grantaire he wasn't having a good time. He moved away with Grantaire, with the excuse to say hello to someone.

"I still don't know who Grantaire is," Charlotte said suddenly.

"Just a young man with a big house who likes to party, who gives free food and free booze to people he doesn't even know. Isn't it enough?" I asked trying to laugh, while I was, in fact, annoyed.

"I'd like to know who he is and what he does," insisted Charlotte. "And I will find out."

"I can tell you right now," I continued. "He owned some stores, his family was rich, and some other boring stuff. Now, if you excuse me..." I said, turning and leaving the room. Charlotte annoyed me and I was afraid that she could find out about Enjolras' affair.

I wasn't really approving, but I was their friend and I saw their happiness and I knew him and Grantaire belonged to each other. And Charlotte, well, she had Babet and probably there had been some more in the past.

I received a text from Enjolras, apologizing because he had left the party and didn't have a chance to say goodnight. I texted him back and reached Grantaire outside. He asked me to wait until the party was over and I just lingered in the garden until it was. I heard footsteps and turned to see my friend walking toward me.

"He didn't like the party" he said immediately.

"Of course he did."

"He didn't" he insisted. "He didn't have a good time."

He was silent and I didn't know what to say to make him feel good.

"Maybe he's just afraid that her wife will--"

"I feel far away from him," he interrupted me. "I don't know how to talk to him."

"Just... be yourself."

He looked at me as I had told a horrible joke. "I want him to say to Charlotte he never loved her," he turned to look at the red light in front of us. "I was supposed to marry him. Not her! But then--oh, Combeferre. I want to spend my life with him. And he doesn't understand," he continued. "He used to be able to understand. You should have seen us back then--"

He stopped and closed his eyes, breathing heavily.

"I wouldn't ask too much of him," I dared to say. "People change. You can't repeat the past."

"Can't repeat the past?" he asked with a laugh. "Yes, you can, my friend. And people--they never change."

He looked at the light again and opened his hand, as if he could take it.

"I'm going to fix everything just the way it was before," he continued, nodding determinedly. "You will see."

He talked a lot about the relationship he had with Enjolras, back in the days. How the two fell in love despite their differences, how they both felt complete with the other, how happy they were, and how much he adored that shy yet fierce guy, bright as the sun and beautiful as Apollo. I thought that Grantaire still loved him very much, never stopped loving him from day one, but maybe there was a part of him which was just missing his careless days, his freedom and some idea of himself perhaps.

**

Years before, they had been walking down the street, and it was dark and cold, and Enjolras stopped them. They stood there for a while, scared as only people in love can be. "Apollo," Grantaire whispered to the blonde, who replied rolling his eyes, but smiling.

Their hearts beat faster and faster as Grantaire asked "Do you permit it?" and Enjolras nodded slowly, taking his hand. Grantaire waited for Enjolras to move, fear hitting him almost as a bullet. Enjolras listened to their breaths for a moment, and then, finally, he kissed him. At his lips' touch, Grantaire blossomed for him like a flower, and finally they became one.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

It was a Saturday night and the lights were off at Grantaire's house. I was a little disappointed because I was starting to like his parties, even if I usually just hanged around with Eponine, Enjolras and, of course, Grantaire.

I became aware that even in the following days there wasn't life. People went there anyway, then turned their cars around when they saw there was no sign of a party. I wondered if he was sick, and I wanted to call him but eventually I decided to just visit him to find out what was happening. An unfamiliar butler opened the door and looked at me suspiciously.

"Hello. Uhm, is Grantaire okay?"

"Yes, he is."

"I haven't seen him around lately, and I was worried. Would you tell him Combeferre came over?"

"Combeferre. All right, I'll tell him," he replied, and closed the door before I could even add something else.

The next day Grantaire called me on the phone.

"Got yourself a new servant?" I asked.

"I wanted somebody who wouldn't gossip. Enjolras comes over quite often."

"I see."

**

Charlotte called me one day to invite me over the day after for lunch. She added "Eponine would be here too," as if she thought that something was up between me and her. I liked her a lot, of course, but if there was something more I couldn't really say.

When I arrived at their house, the day after, I saw Grantare in the middle of the room chatting with Enjolras and Eponine, and I knew in that moment that something was up, but all of them were half smiling.

"What's funny?" I asked walking toward them.

"Me and Grantaire arrived almost half an hour ago," whispered Eponine, "and since then we haven't seen Charlotte yet. She's probably at the phone with some man."

Charlotte then entered the room.

"Sorry! Grantaire, hi, I'm glad you came! Hello, Combeferre!"

"I'm gonna make us cold drinks," said Enjolras.

We drank in long greedy swallows. That day was extremely hot.

"Every year is getting hotter and hotter than the previous one. It's like hell here," said Eponine just to fill the silence in the room.

"Come outside," Charlotte suggested to Grantaire, "I want to show you around."

We all followed them out. Charlotte raised her hand and pointed across the bay.

"That is your house, isn't it?"

"Yes it is."

"Yes it is," she repeated. Me and Eponine glanced to one another, worried.

We had lunch in the dining room, and cold beer was a delight.

"Any plans for the afternoon?" asked Enjolras. "Because we can go to town. Find some place cooler than this house. I'm sweating like a pig." Grantaire looked at him, a question mark on his face.

"You look beautiful, Apollo."

Their eyes met, and the blonde blushed before looking at his plate.

"Don't call me that," he demanded.

Grantaire just told him that he loved him, and Charlotte saw. Her mouth opened a little and she looked at Grantaire and then back at Enjolras.

"All right," Charlotte said, getting up. "Lunch is over. Let's go to town. Come on--we are all going," she added, still looking at Enjolras and Grantaire.

No one moved.

"Maybe we can go to my house, the swimming pool--" said Grantaire, before getting interruped.

"No, come on, we're always there. Let's go to town."

Me and Eponine finally got up and we all went outside.

"Very well, we can use my car, then," suggested Grantaire. "I've left it in the shade."

"She's beautiful," said Charlotte. "I am not a big fan of this green color, but--would you let me drive her? You can take mine."

Grantaire obviously didn't like the suggestion.

"I don't think there's much gas," he objected.

"I can always stop at the gas station. No worries. We'll meet at the Plaza and then we'll decide what to do."

A pause followed. Enjolras looked at Charlotte frowning, trying to understand if she was plotting something.

"Come on, Enjolras," said Charlotte, putting a hand on his back. "Come with me."

She opened the door but he moved away.

"You take Combeferre and Eponine. Me and Grantaire will follow you," and then he walked close to Grantaire, pushing him lightly with a touch on his arm. Eponine, Charlotte and I got into Grantaire's car and we started to go, leaving them out of sight behind.

**

"Have you seen that?" demanded Charlotte.

"What?"

She turned her head for a second, looking at me and probably realizing that I must have known all along--and Eponine too.

"Do you all think I'm dumb?" she asked. "Maybe I am, or maybe that's what I want people to think."

"Listen, Charlotte. If you have to be like this, why did you invite him? Why did you insist to come to town all together?" demanded Eponine.

"Enjolras invited him. And you know what? I'm pretty sure they knew each other before me and him got married... I'll find out when and where!"

Charlotte stopped at Ellen's garage, who emerged from the office and gazed at the green car.

"Put some gas in her, would you?" asked Charlotte without an hint of kindness, or even a "hello".

"New car?" Ellen asked. "Nice green. I'd buy one of these, but I need money."

"And why do you need money, Ellen?"

"I'm starting to hate this city. Babet and I wanna go away. Probably west."

"Babet wants to leave?" exclaimed Charlotte, surprised.

Before Ellen could reply, I looked at a corner of the garage and saw the figure of Babet, listening.

"He did once. Then he liked it here." She filled the car with the gas. "But now? Now I don't care if he likes New York or not. We're going."

While we were waiting, Enjolras and Grantaire passed us on the street and waved hands. Charlotte was silent.

"Also, the last couple of days some rumors started to go around," Ellen continued. "Another reason to leave."

Charlotte paid.

Ellen had discovered that Babet had someone else, but not who the other woman was. I stared at Ellen and then at Charlotte. I turned to Eponine and I saw a worried look on her face.

"Well then, I hope to see you all again before you move out."

We drove away and I saw wit the corner of my eye that Charlotte was mad, her grip on the steering wheel almost made her knuckles white. His husband and his lover, until an hour ago secure, were slipping away from her hands, from her control. We saw the other car in front of the Plaza and Charlotte stopped next to them.

"So? Where are we going?" Eponine asked.

"How about the movies?" Charlotte proposed.

"There's nothing good out now," Enjolras complained. "But you can go. Me and Grantaire will just walk or go to the park, and we'll meet you after."

"No movies then. We can go to our apartment," Charlotte said impatiently.

"Cool. From one house to another," Eponine said with sarcarm, but no one replied. We all went back on the road.

Charlotte looked at the rear mirror several times to see if Enjolras and Grantaire were still following us. She was probably afraid that they would just turn and leave us forever.

But they didn't, and we all reached the white building.

"Even here it's hot," complained Enjolras.

"Well, what did you expect?"

"To go to the park where there is some shade."

"Oh for God's sake, stop complaining! You make us all feel the heat ten times worse by keeping talking about it!"

She opened a cabinet and grabbed a bottle of whiskey.

"Is this how you usually talk to him?" asked Grantaire, and I felt tension hitting us all. "You're the one who wanted to come here."

There was a moment of silence.

"Well, sorry, Oxford man!" she laughed.

"Excuse me?"

"Didn't you go to Oxford, Grantaire?"

"Yes--I went there, but just for a few months. I'm not an Oxford man at all. I travelled."

Charlotte glanced around to see if we were shocked too. But we were all looking at Grantaire.

Enjolras tried to smile and break the tension. "Would you open the whiskey, Charlotte?" he asked.

"No, wait," snapped Charlotte, "I have one more question."

"Go on," Grantaire said politely, and I think he just wanted that argument to end.

"What exactly are you trying to accomplish?" she asked, waving her hand between him and his husband.

Well, here we are, I thought.

"What are _you_ trying to accomplish, Charlotte," Enjolras said desperately. "Why are you like this today? Have some self control, would you?"

"Self control!" repeated Charlotte incredulously. "Self control! What am I supposed to do? Sitting here drinking whiskey while you two keep eye-fucking, until you can fuck for real as soon as I leave? Do you even like women, Enjolras?"

He was shocked, that I can tell. While Grantaire looked almost happy and finally free, Enjolras looked scared and almost guilt, as if just in that moment he had realized what he was doing to his wife.

"I have something to tell you--" began Grantaire, but Enjolras interrupted him.

"Please, Grantaire, don't! Please, can we go home?"

"That's a good idea." I got up, hoping that the others would follow. "Come on, Charlotte. It's just a bad day."

"No, no, I want to know what he wants to say."

"Enjolras doesn't love you," said Grantaire quickly. "He neved did. He loves me."

"Excuse me?" exclaimed Charlotte automatically.

Grantaire was excited. Everything was out now. He could start his relationship with Enjolras out in the sun.

"He loves me. He never loved you. He only married you because he thought I was killed in Iraq. It was a terrible mistake, but I am here now."

Eponine and I tried to go away, and I looked at Enjolras who was still silent and looking at the floor. Charlotte asked us to stay.

"Sit down. All of you. I want to hear more details."

"I told you everything," Grantaire continued. "What more do you need to hear? It took us five years, but--"

Charlotte turned to Enjolras.

"Anything to add?" she asked to him, and then, turning back to Grantaire: "Enjolras loved me when he married me and he loves me now."

"No," said Grantaire, shaking his head.

"He does. And--shocking news, I love him too. I make mistakes, but I always go back home."

"You're disgusting. Mistakes?" finally Enjolras seemed to wake up. He turned to me, and his voice now filled the room: "Do you know why we left France and came here? Do you wanna know about that french boy, oh sorry, that _mistake_ , who lived next door? I'm surprised she hasn't said a word about him!"

Grantaire walked over and put his hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

"Enjolras, that's all over now. It doesn't matter anymore. Just tell her what is going on, and we'll be free."

He looked at him blindly, then his eyes fell on Eponine and me, as if he was looking for help. Then I understood. Enjolras and Grantaire talked about this, about what to say, and everything must have been easy in their minds, but doing it? I knew that Enjolras loved Grantaire, but leaving his wife and start a new life, maybe somewhere else, was another story.

Grantaire understood it too, I could tell. Enjolras hesitated too much.

"I never loved her," he said whispering.

"Enjolras?" Charlotte begged.

"Please... don't." Enjolras looked at Grantaire. "Happy, Grantaire?" he asked, trembling. "You want too much. I love you now, isn't that enough? Who cares about the past! Yes, I loved her once--and I loved you too, all these years."

Grantaire's eyes opened wide.

"You loved me _too_?" he repeated.

"He loved me. We had shared beautiful moments together, moments you'll never know and moments we can forget." Charlotte said.

Her words seemed to hit Grantaire right in his heart.

"I want to speak to Enjolras alone," he insisted. "This is a private--"

"Grantaire... 'Taire, look at me. Even alone, I can't lie. I can't say I never loved Charlotte. I thought you were dead--!"

"Of course you loved me," Charlotte said, with triumph.

He turned to his wife.

"Why, did you care? When you let that french boy fuck you in our bed, did you know I loved you?" he asked. "When you are sleeping with men here in New York, do you care about me?"

"Of course I care. And I promise, Enjolras, I'll be good. I'll take care of--"

"You don't understand, Charlotte," said Grantaire, shaking his head. "I will take care of him. I will make promises--"

"You?" Charlotte opened her eyes wide and laughed. "How and why? Please, delight me."

"Enjolras is leaving you."

"You're crazy."

"Watch us," he said, but if his mouth said one thing, his eyes, scared, said something different.

"I won't let it!" Charlotte almost screamed.

"Please! Stop this!" yelled Enjolras.

"And by the way, who do you think you are, with that huge ass mansion and your parties?" broke out Charlotte. "You think I haven't made a little research on you? You hang around with Montparnasse and his gang--as if people don't know what they do!"

"So what?"

She turned to us and spoke rapidly. "He and this Montparnasse guy aren't exactly doing this city a favor. They smuggled alcohol, they forge and steal and God knows what else."

I glanced at Enjolras who was staring terrified between Grantaire and his wife. Eponine's eyes never left the floor in the last minutes, as if she was reading something on the tiles. Then I turned back to Grantaire--who was mortified.

He began to talk to Enjolras, and he didn't even try to deny the accusations, because he wanted to be honest, at least from today, and he apologized to him and us too. But, the more he talked, the more I could see Enjolras drifting away. He loved Grantaire, or the memory of him?

"Please! I can't stand this any more," he begged.

"Take your damn car, Grantaire. Start to go home, and take Enjolras with you," said Charlotte.

Enjolras looked at her, frowning.

"It's fine. He just realized everything between you two is over."

**

They left, without saying another word. Grantaire looked at me and my expression was blank.

Almost half an hour after, we got into Charlotte's car. She was happy, laughing as if she had heard some funny joke. She won. At least one man was still in her life.

So we drove toward death.

**

The italian boy, Tony, who ran the café beside Ellen's garage, was the principal witness.

Earlier that afternoon, he brought coffee to Ellen and asked her where Babet was.

"In our room upstairs," explained Ellen. "He's not going anywhere until the day we'll leave this goddamn city."

Tony was surprised, they had been neighbors for years and never once he had heard that woman talking in that way.

So, naturally, he wanted to find out what happened to Babet and Ellen, but she wouldn't say a word. So he just said goodbye and went back to his café.

When Tony left his shop a couple of hours later he heard Babet's loud but unclear, before seeing him running out of the garage and into the street, waving his hands and shouting; before he could do anything else, his body hit the road.

**

We were almost at the garage on our way back when we saw the police and some other cars in the middle of the road.

Charlotte slowed down until she stopped completely. "We'll take a look," she said a little worried when she understood where the mess was.

As we walked toward the garage, we became aware of the sounds. Ellen was screaming and crying at the door, a couple of people close to her trying to calm her down.

"Something bad happened," said Charlotte, as if me and Eponine weren't still aware, but Charlotte was like this, she had to tell you what was happening in front of your eyes. She needed to be in control.

She looked around, and I saw the look of terror on her face. She opened her mouth and her eyes were crazy. She made a weird sound as she pushed her way through the crowd.

A moment later me and Eponine followed her, and I gasped.

Babet's body was in the middle of the road without a single sign of life. A policeman covered his body in a blanket, and another one pushed us away and back to the pavement. I looked toward the garage and saw a policeman talking to Ellen and taking notes in a little book. A woman was close to her, caressing her arm. Me and Charlotte walked toward her. The policeman looked at us as he felt Charlotte's hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"What happened, sir?"

"A car hit that poor man. Instantly killed."

"Instantly killed," repeated Charlotte, staring.

"He ran out. And the son of a bitch didn't even stop the car."

Tony stepped near.

"It was a green car," he said, "big, and bright green."

"Did you see the accident, mister?" asked the policeman.

"Yes. I was leaving my shop--that café there--and I saw that car coming from that direction, going very fast. Didn't see the person driving, and I don't know what kind of car it was, but that color was impossible to miss."

Tony and the policeman were talking some more, when Ellen started yelling.

"You don't have to tell me what kind of car it was! I saw that car before!"

Charlotte walked quickly over to her, blocking her way.

"You need to calm down, Ellen," she said quietly.

Ellen's eyes fell on Charlotte and her eyes widened.

"I saw you with that car earlier this afternoon!"

"Listen," ordered Charlotte, shaking her a little. "I just got here a minute ago, from New York. I stopped because the road is interrupted. That green car I was driving wasn't mine, do you hear me? I parked it and when I came back wasn't there anymore."

I was the only witness of that conversation, because Eponine left us and went back to the car, shocked after seeing Babet's body.

"What is happning here?" the policeman demanded.

"I'm a friend of Ellen," Charlotte turned and use her best tone to answer. "She saw the car too."

"And what color is your car, ma'am?"

"It's a blue car. That one, over there. See that girl?" she pointed out at the her car not very far from were we stood. Eponing was leaning on it.

"We were in New York and we were going back to West Egg. We arrived here ten minutes ago," I added when the policeman looked at me.

Someone who had been driving a little behind us confirmed this and the policeman turned away.

Eventually, the road was opened again and we drove home.

**

"That son of a bitch!" Charlotte yelled. "He didn't even stop! Can you believe it?"

We arrived in front of her house, and Charlotte stopped beside the porch and looked up at the first floor where there was a light coming out of a window.

"Enjolras is home," she said. As we got out of the car she glanced at me and frowned slightly. "I should have brought you home, Combeferre, sorry."

"I'll just call a taxi, don't worry."

Eponine put her hand on my arm.

"Do you want some company, Combeferre?"

"No, thanks."

I was feeling a little sick and I wanted to be alone.

"It's not late," she insisted.

I didn't want to be with her and finally she understood. She turned quickly and went away.

I was starting to walk away from the house and called a taxi, when I heard my name. Grantaire stepped from between two bushes into the path.

"You startled me! What are you doing here?"

"I was just... standing there. You know."

I didn't know, and I didn't know what to think about Grantaire in the bushes spying on Enjolras' house. Not after what happened.

"Did you... did you see any trouble...?" he asked after a while.

"Yes," I simply replied.

He hesitated.

"Is he... you know?"

"Yes."

"I thought so. I told Enjolras... he was shocked. I tried to calm him down but he--" Grantaire paused."I got to West Egg by a side road and left the car in my garage. I don't think anybody saw us but of course I can't be sure."

I disliked him very much in that moment, so I didn't tell him that he was wrong.

"Who was the man?"

"His name was Babet. Husband of Ellen, the one who owns the garage. Grantaire, how did it happen?"

"Well, I tried to swing the wheel--" he stopped, and suddendly I understood.

"Enjolras was the one driving, right?"

"Yes," he said after a moment, "but of course I'll say I was. When we left the city he was very nervous and he thought that drive home would calm him, and I agreed. So stupid. Then this man run out and shout at us, or... it all happened in a second, but it seemed to me that he wanted to speak to us, that maybe we were somebody he knew...? Anyway, Enjolras lost the control of the car, I tried to... but--the impact... it must have killed that poor man instantly."

"Exactly."

He looked at the ground. "Anyhow--We didn't know what to do, Enjolras almost passed out, so I drove on. Everything will be okay," he continued, trying to assure me, or himself. "I just want to stay here if she tries to bother him, or whatever."

"How long are you going to wait?"

"All night if necessary."

A new thought came into my mind: what if Charlotte found out that Enjolras was the one driving? What could Charlotte possibly say, or do? She was capable of anything.

"Wait here," I said. "I'll see if there are any signs of trouble."

I walked back and saw Enjolras and Charlotte sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table with some food and a couple of beers on it. She was talking to him, and once in a while he looked up at her and nodded. I could tell that they weren't happy, and the food remained untouched, but still... they weren't unhappy either.

I heard the sound of a motor and saw my taxi, so I walked back. Grantaire was waiting where I had left him.

"How are things there?" he asked anxiously.

"All quiet. Grantaire... you should go home and get some sleep."

He shook his head. "I want to wait here until Enjolras goes to bed. Goodnight, Combeferre."

I looked at him, and he seemed so small and vulnerable that my instinct told me to go and hug him, but I didn't. So I walked away and left him standing there in the moonlight.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

I couldn't sleep that night. It was almost dawn when I heard the sound of a car, so I jumped out of the bed and went to the window. I saw a taxi going up to Grantaire's drive. I put some pants and a shirt on and I ran outside. I felt bad, and guilt was slowly consuming me. I had something to tell him, and I had to do it now.

The door was open and I saw him leaning against a table in the hall. He turned and noticed me.

"Nothing happened," he said. "I waited, then about four I saw his silhouette at the window and then he turned off the light"

He still looked small and miserable, but it seemed he wasn't sad or disappointed about it.

"You need to leave," I said firmly. "I'm sure they will trace your car."

"Leave _now_ , Combeferre?"

"Go. Europe. Brasil. I don't know."

"I can't leave Enjolras. I need to know what he wants to do. He needs to know what I want to do. He hasn't answered to my texts, but of course he won't look at this phone now. But tomorrow--" He was still hoping. "Come inside, my friend. I'll make coffee."

It was that night that he told me ho he really was. He told me the story of Oxford, told me about Lamarque, and of course--he talked to me about Enjolras again.

He was the first nice boy he had ever known. They were different, from very distant worlds, and yet.

"When I understood I loved him.... I can't describe it to you how I felt. I was scared, because it was the first time. For a while I even hoped he'd be disgusted, but he wasn't, and later I found out he loved me too. I adored him, his fierceness, kindness. He said he liked my style, and he was amazed by all the things I knew about the world, art, poetry... I wanted the world, I was ambitious, but when I met him I didn't care about anything else."

When he went to Iraq, as a photographer, he did well. He and Enjolras wrote and called each other, but not so frequently. Then he started to notice a different Enjolras in his letters. He was feeling the weight of the world and the pressure of his family, and he just wanted Grantaire to go back and be free and safe again.

Then a letter arrived. Grantaire was dead. Obviously it was a mistake--but that mistake changed the fate of two young men in love.

Enjolras couldn't live by himself, wanted someone on his side because being alone was a constant reminder of what happened. Then some force pushed him toward Charlotte, a beautiful, strong, independent and rich girl, a girl who desired him and she didn't take "no" for an answer.

"I don't think he ever loved her." Grantaire looked at the drink in his hand. "You don't know, but when Enjolras came here these last weeks... you should have seen him." He looked at me. "He might have loved her, okay, for one minute, for a month, or when they were first married--but still. He came here. We made love. Don't you see?"

We sat outside and it was already eight o'clock. His butler brought us breakfast.

"I have never used that pool all summer," he suddendly said, drinking coffee.

I looked at my watch and stood up.

"I have to go to work. I'm sorry, Grantaire." I didn't want to leave him. "I'll call you later."

"Do it. I'll keep my phone close today. You see. Enjolras will call too." He looked at me with hope in his eyes and I didn't have the courage to say that he was probably wrong.

"Yes, I think so."

"Goodbye, my friend."

I started to walk away, but just before reaching the end of the stairs, I turned around.

"Grantaire!" I shouted across the lawn. He turned and looked at me. "You're better than him. You're better than anyone else, don't you ever forget that!"

I've always been glad I said that. It was the only compliment I ever gave him, because we were different and I found myself disapproving of a lot of the things he had done, but still. I truly thought so.

He smiled and waved his hand.

**

In the city I took care of some business and then I went to work. During a pause, I checked my phone and saw a text from Eponine.

"You weren't so nice to me last night."

I called her.

"What did you expect from me, after a day like that? Your friends are in trouble. A man was killed." I said without even an "hello".

She didn't answer for a while, then she spoke.

"However--I want to see you."

"I want to see you too."

"Dinner?"

"No... I don't really want to have dinner together."

"Very well. After, perhaps?"

"I think--"

We went on like that for a while until I realized that I didn't want to see her at all. Eventually we hung up and I felt a little better.

I called Grantaire, but he didn't answered. I left a text. "Hope you're getting some sleep. See you tonight."

**

On my way back home I thought about something that my mind erased, from the night of the accident, just before me, Charlotte and Eponine left.

Tony and several other men and women were with Ellen.

"Look in the drawer there," she said, pointing at the desk.

Tony opened the drawer, and there was nothing but a nice and expensive dog leash. It was apparently new.

"Ellen...?" he asked, holding it up.

Ellen stared and nodded.

"I found it yesterday afternoon. I asked him about it but wouldn't say a word."

"Babet bought it?"

"Yes. It was wrapped in a nice paper."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because we never used these filthy things. I know what kind of people uses these, and for sure not normal people, you know. A decent husband and her nice wife...?"

Tony didn't seem to understand.

"He did it," she said convinced.

"Who?"

"I'll find out."

"It was an accident, Ellen."

She shook his head. "I might be stupid, but I know a thing or two. Babet saw him and ran outside to stop it. It was the man in that fucking car."

**

While me and Grantaire were having breakfast that morning, in New York Ellen was calling every garage in New York asking about a green car. While I was going to work, she knew the owner of that car. While I was going back home, she was in West Egg, on her way to Grantaire's house.

Around four, Grantaire put on his swimming trunks and told the butler that if Enjolras called he wanted to be notified.

No calls or texts arrived. I thought that even Grantaire didn't believe they would come.

The butler was the only one who heard the shots, about half an hour before I arrived at Grantaire's mansion. I saw him on the stairs, shivering and with a phone in his hand. I run to him, knowing that something was wrong.

"I already called the police," he said, without even looking at me.

I followed his gaze and run toward the swimming pool.

I gasped as I saw Grantaire's body floating, and a red circle widening in the water.

Wind was blowing and I shivered, and the first thought that came into my mind was that parties were over.

After some minutes, the butler told there was something else in the garden. I followed him and I saw Ellen's body.

Summer was over too.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

Two years has passed, and I still remember the rest of the day in every little detail, that night and the day after, and so on. I remember policemen, photographers, journalists and curious people coming and going. Eventually, the police pushed away everyone.

A detective explained the events: Ellen, deeply upset and consumed by grief, looked for revenge. She shot Grantaire at his back two times and then, as she reached the garden, she killed herself. As soon as the news came out, people were satisfied. I tried to stay away from rumours and people's comments, because I was the only one on Grantaire's side.

I called Enjolras not later than ten minutes after I have found the body, but an unknown voice answered. Their butler--the man who answered the phone--told me that Enjolras and Charlotte had left early, taking their things with them.

"Did they left a number? An address?"

"No."

"Do you know if they will come back?"

"No."

I was angry. "Do you at least have any idea where they are? Something happened and--"

"I don't know, I'm sorry."

I wanted to get somebody for him. I went to the room where he laid and reassured him. "I'll find someone, Grantaire. Don't worry. Trust me--" and I finally broke down and cried.

**

Outside, I took Grantaire's phone and looked at his contacts. I felt like I was spying on him, but I was doing this for him. Montparnasse's name wasn't in the list. The butler gave me an address and a number, but no one answered the phone. I saw other names on the phone, but no recent texts or calls. I didn't know if I was in the position to call them.

I went back to Grantaire's room with the hope to find some visitors, but no one was here. I could hear his voice in my head.

"Please, Combeferre. Find someone. I can't go through this alone."

I looked in a couple of drawers and found a lot of pictures--I finally saw Lamarque's face and boat.

**

Next morning I wanted to go to New York to find Montparnasse, but I didn't want to leave my friend, so I sent the butler with a letter. He came back after a couple of hours and while I was reading Montparnasse's reply, I felt the need to scream. It was indeed Grantaire and me against the whole damn city.

_Dear Combeferre._

_The news of Grantaire's death shocked me – I even asked the butler if it was a joke. That woman... I can hardly believe it. Unfortunately, I can't come to West Egg now because I am very busy with work and some extra business, you see, and I can't leave. Please let me know if I can help you in anyway, in the future._

_\- Montparnasse_

_PS: I'm sorry but I don't know his family at all._

**

When Grantaire's phone rang that afternoon, I saw an unknown number. I thought this would be Enjolras, at last. I anwered, hopeful.

"Hello? Enjolras?"

"Who? No, I'm Brujon. Who's this?" The name was unfamiliar. "Listen, do you have--"

I interrupted. "I'm sorry, I'm not Grantaire. Grantaire' dead."

"Oh." There was a long silence and suddendly whoever was on the other side endend the call.

**

The day after, Grantaire's phone received another call. It was a man called Jean Grand, and asked me to postpone the funeral until he came. I agreed. It was Grantaire's father.

"I saw it in the newspaper," he said when he arrived. "We haven't talked in a while, but--"

I nodded, and took him into Grantaire's room, and gave him some privacy. After a little while, Jean Grand opened the door and came out. His eyes were red and swollen.

"You were a friend of his, mister...?"

"Combeferre. Yes, we were close."

He nodded. "He was so young. All his life ahead of him. He was so smart, he could have become someone, you know."

I agreed.

 **

The funeral was that same day. I was still hoping to see someone arriving. The priest glanced several times at me, Jean Grand and at his watch. I asked him for some more little patience, at least twenty minutes. But it was useless, because nobody came.

Enjolras hadn't sent a message, or a flower. I closed my eyes as the priest began to speak and I tried to focus on the day Grantaire played the piano for him.

**

After Grantaire's death I started to hate that place. So, when autumn came, I decided to leave.

Before going away, there was a thing I wanted to do. Or, better, that I think I needed to do to definitely leave everything behind my back and in order. I called Eponine and met her in the city, and we talked about happened to us.

"I don't really care now, Combeferre. I felt good around you, but it's over now. I thought you were honest. I thought you were a better person."

I shrugged, because her opinion didn't touch me at all. "I told you about Grantaire and you didn't even showed up at his funeral. I thought he was your friend."

"He killed a man."

"Did he?" I asked. I wanted to tell her the truth, just because I wanted to clean Grantaire's name, but I was angry at her and I wanted to left her with some doubts. I stood up and turned away.

**

In October, a little before I definitely moved away, I was walking close to the white building when I saw Charlotte. She saw me as I was turning away, and she walked me toward me.

"What's the matter, Combeferre? You don't want to say hi?"

"Exactly. You know what I think of you."

"You're crazy," she said laughing. "I don't know what's your problem."

"Charlotte. What did you say to Ellen after the accident?" I asked.

She stared at me with challenging eyes but said nothing. I started to go away bur she stopped me.

"I told her the truth," she said. "Gr--that man had it coming, with his parties and the way he threw dust in people's eyes. In Enjolras' eyes. He ran over Babet and didn't stop!"

There was nothing I could say, except that she was wrong.

I could have asked about Enjolras. I could have asked where they were staying, how was their life. But I realized I didn't care. I wasn't angry, I was disappointed. They had destroyed families and friendships, and run away without looking at the mess they made. It was all so familiar.

I left.

**

At the end of October I packed my last things and then walked down to the beach for the last time. I found myself walking toward my friend's path.

As I stood there, in the cold, I thought about Grantaire, choosing to live here and look at the red light at the end of Enjolras' dock. He must have been so happy and hopeful, ready to start a new life, with what he wanted just on the other side, so close that he could just grab it with his hand.

Grantaire believed in the red light.

 

 

_So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past._

 

 

 


End file.
